


Bubble Gum

by anotetofollow



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Modern Era, Seaside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotetofollow/pseuds/anotetofollow
Summary: In her four years at the Normandy Cafe, Shepard has forgotten how to talk to girls.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Bubble Gum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonvapour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonvapour/gifts).



> Sorry I didn't kiss you  
> But it's obvious I wanted to  
> Bubble gum down my throat and it's a curse  
> But my luck couldn't get any worse ([x](https://open.spotify.com/track/3zksbXteOCeSusJ5Xltr3t))

Shepard knocked the group handle into the tray, sending a puck of coffee grounds thumping down into the bin. Frowning, she reached over to the grinder and nudged it a little coarser. The changeable weather this week was playing havoc with the machines. It had been a typical British summer so far, long stretches of cloudy days interspersed with the occasional heatwave. During the latter the town would flood with tourists, skin milk-pale with suncream and shoulder bags bulging with towels, paperback novels, buckets and spades. On a hot day the Normandy Cafe could easily take four times as much money as usual, customers queuing out onto the pier as they waited for their drinks.

The day was overcast and so business had been slow, mostly regulars who lived and worked in the area, eating their teacakes and bitching loudly about the tourists. It was a hobby among the locals, complaining this way, despite the fact that without the summer visitors most of them would have little to no income. Shepard had learned quickly not to point this out, and within her first year she was bellyaching along with the rest of them. She chewed stick after stick of cherry-flavoured gum — her one consolation after she quit smoking — and talked with the carnival workers and deckchair salesman about the ungrateful city slickers, only mostly ironically.

It would be four years this autumn since she had moved to the seaside town, and even now many of the locals still referred to her as ‘that new girl’. This was not to say that they resented her; there was a certain affection in the nickname, a relief among some of the town’s older inhabitants that young people still wanted to move there. As with most seaside resorts the local economy was gradually crumbling, the long ghost-town winters pummelling businesses and driving down house prices. Many of Shepard’s old friends didn’t understand why she had chosen to come to such a place after leaving service, when she could have just as easily gone to live somewhere more fashionable.

This was a hard thing to explain, even to herself. After her third tour Shepard had been honourably discharged from the army, and she found herself with no home, no family, and no friends stationed on this side of the globe. Her parents had passed away when she was young, and their life insurance money had remained untouched in a savings account for years. For a while she had drifted, travelling the length and breadth of the country on trains and coaches and on foot, staying in hostels and budget hotels for a night or two at the time. She sought out the quiet places, the desolate places. She hiked the Scottish highlands in the rain, stood on bare Cornish cliffs as the sea boomed and raged beneath her, watched the flat horizon stretch out to nothing in the Fens. And then, one day, she stopped moving. Waking up in another anonymous room in another anonymous town, Shepard realised she was homesick for a home she didn’t have. It felt like the time to put down roots, but the question remained— where? Her family had moved a lot as a kid so there was no one place that felt familiar, and she had few relatives to speak of. Her mind kept drifting back to one memory from her early childhood, all in fragments. Rushing surf, jewel-coloured bulbs on a ferris wheel, wet sand between her toes, the sweet tang of lemonade. It was the closest thing she had to nostalgia.

So she had picked a seaside town at random and bought the little cafe on the pier, much to the confusion of her bank manager. Before she joined the army Shepard had been a waitress for a few years, and outside combat it was the only thing she even half-knew how to do. The first few months had been rough, plagued by lack of custom and breaking machines and constantly quitting staff, but by the first summer Shepard had hit her stride. She liked the mindless busywork of pouring tea and frying eggs and cleaning tables, enjoyed the babble of chatter and the distant music from the fairground, even had a certain affection for the seagulls who loitered, like muggers, on the wall outside.

Shepard was switching out the counter for lunch when she heard a high, thin wail from the corner of the cafe. A woman were standing there, by the machine that dispensed little toys for 20p a pop, comforting a red-faced toddler.

“Everything okay?” Shepard called.

“Yes, sorry,” the mother said, obviously embarrassed. “The machine’s jammed. Nothing’ll come out.”

“Ah—” Shepard went to swear, then thought better of it. She looked around, her eyes alighting on a cheap plastic parrot perched on top of the till. Pulling it off the blu-tack that held it there, she walked around to the front of the counter and handed it to the crying child. “Here. Consolation prize.”

He took it, sniffling, his eyes still brimming with tears. The mother breathed out a long sigh of relief, looking at Shepard with almost infinite gratitude. “Thanks. You’ve just saved me a nightmare drive home.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shepard said. “You want a refund on that 20p?”

She laughed. “Keep it. Bye, now.”

Shepard waved goodbye to them as they left the cafe, the bell tinkling merrily above the door, then crouched down next to the machine and gave the handle a few exploratory turns. There was a dull _thunk_ sound, but nothing came out. She got onto her knees and inspected the bottom and back of the contraption, looking for some kind of… she had no idea, actually. What she did find was a small yellow sticker, peeling at the edges, stating the name of the manufacturer and the number to call for repairs.

Given that the machine was second-hand and at least twenty years old, Shepard was surprised when she rang and someone picked up. “Vas Neema Vending?”

“Hi, yeah, I’ve got one of your… small toy egg machines here?” She wrinkled her nose. Definitely not what it was called. “It’s jammed.”

“Alright.” Clearly the man knew what she was referring to despite her phrasing. “What’s the address?”

She told him, and he said someone would be out to fix it in an hour. Shepard was surprised at how quick the turnaround was, but then, she supposed, towns like this probably had more small toy egg machines than the rest of the country put together.

The lunch rush was slow that day, just the usual parade of ice cream men and newsagents wanting their chip butties and tea, and Shepard spent most of the next hour drinking coffee and listening to the radio. Outside the sky was slate-grey, threatening rain. If the weather forecast was correct, this was due to be the last big storm before summer began in earnest, the beginning of a record heatwave. But they said that every year.

When the engineer arrived the cafe was almost empty, and Shepard was cleaning the tables ready for an early finish. She looked up when the bell above the door chimed, watched as a small woman carrying a toolbox walked inside. _Pretty_ , Shepard thought immediately, and she was; cut-off jeans that clung to the curve of her hips, short, dark hair, eyes a shockingly pale blue. She gave Shepard half a wave as she approached the counter.

“Are you the manager?” An accent of some kind, hard to place.

“Yep.” Shepard put down the bus tray she had been filling and wiped her hands on her apron. “You here to fix the vending machine?” Stupid question, of course she was.

“I am.” She pointed to the corner. “That one there?”

“That’s right. Thanks.”

The engineer nodded once, then walked over to the machine and began unpacking her tools. Shepard resisted the urge to stare as she finished stacking the dirty plates and carried them back to the dishwasher. As much as she loved this town, it was populated almost entirely by old people. It was rare to see a woman her own age in the cafe on a quiet day, let alone one this attractive. When Shepard had finished putting away the clean crockery she found that there was nothing much left to do.

“Hey,” she called to the engineer. “You want something to drink? Sorry, I should have asked before.”

“Black coffee would be great.” She looked up from her work, smiling. “Shouldn’t be long. This thing is really jammed though.”

“Uh huh.” Not knowing what else to say, Shepard pushed the gum to the front of her lips and blew a bubble, let it pop. She busied herself pulling espresso and warming the cleanest cup she could find, then carried the coffee out to where the engineer knelt on the floor.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “Wow. That’s pretty good. Usually the coffee in these places tastes like watered-down dirt. No offence, of course.” Was Shepard imagining it, or was she blushing a little?

“None taken. There’s cake going too, if you want. It’ll just go in the bin otherwise.”

“Do you have anything gluten free?” She pulled a face. “Coeliac, I promise. No fad diets here.”

“I do, actually.” Shepard felt suddenly vindicated in her decision to purchase allergen-free cookies for the counter, despite the fact that he had yet to sell a single one. “Coming right up.” She put one on a plate and brought it back round, feeling ever-so-slightly like a crow bringing bits of tinfoil to its mate.

“There we— _go_.” The engineer gave the machine’s handle one final twist and several capsules came flooding out of the dispenser, clattering onto the floor and rolling off in different directions. “Shit. Sorry.”

Shepard put the cookie down on a table and knelt to help her gather them up. They reached under a chair at the same time and their hands brushed, just for a moment, leaving Shepard feeling warm and a little dizzy.

“Here,” the engineer said as she picked up the last capsule and put it back in the chamber. “All done.” She picked up the cookie and took a bite, humming with satisfaction. “Amazing. Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Shepard said. “So, how much do I owe you?”

“You don’t.” She spoke through a mouthful of crumbs, her hand delicately covering her lips. “We’ll invoice you. Here. If it gets stuck again.” The engineer pulled a card from her back pocket and handed it to Shepard. _Tali Zorah, Vas Neema Vending_. A mobile number.

“Great. Thanks.” Shepard wasn’t sure what else to say. She popped her gum again.

Tali packed away her tools and left, waving cheerily over her shoulder as she walked out of the cafe. When Shepard cleared away her empty cup she saw the slightest lipstick stain on the rim. Immediately she regretted not saying more, not asking Tali out for a drink when she got off shift. She was rusty. Sighing to herself, she went back behind the counter and began closing up for the day.

The machine broke again a week later. Shepard took Tali’s card from her wallet and rang the number, and she was there within the hour.

“Again?” the engineer asked when she arrived. She was wearing overalls today, short and flower-patterned. “They usually hold out for a few months at least.”

Shepard shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. It’s just stuck again.”

“Let me take a look.”

The heatwave had come as predicted for once, and the cafe had been full all day. Shepard had a few extra staff on to handle the crowds and things were just about winding down after the rush. With all the windows open the cafe was hot but not unpleasantly so, the sea breeze ruffling the leaves of the plants above the counter. She pottered around the cafe, cleaning tables and running orders, then went to pour an americano for Tali.

When she brought it over the engineer frowned at her. “It’s the strangest thing,” she said.

“Oh?” Shepard handed her the coffee.

“The coin slot is packed full of gum,” Tali half-smiled at her. “Isn’t that odd?”

“So odd.” Shepard blew a bubble with the ever-present wad of gum in her mouth, grinning as it popped.

“You know,” Tali said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sabotaged this machine on purpose.”

“That’s a bold accusation.”

“I can’t think why someone would do that.”

“Hmm,” Shepard tapped a finger against her chin. “Maybe if the vending machine technician was cute, and I wanted to see her again. I might do that. In theory.” Despite all her bluster Shepard was nervous. It had been a gamble, for sure, and one that could easily backfire.

But, to her relief, Tali’s cheeks blushed a few shades darker. “Maybe the vending machine technician would be pleased,” she said. “In theory.”

Shepard smiled. “What time do you finish work?”

“This was my last job.”

“I get off shift in half an hour,” she said. “If you want to stick around I’ll buy you fish and chips. There’s a place round the corner that does gluten-free batter. I checked.”

Tali laughed. “Well, how could I resist such a well-thought-out offer?”

The next half an hour passed painfully slowly, and when the clock finally hit three Shepard all but ran to the back office. She changed out of her apron and grabbed her bag from her locker, then checked her face in the bathroom mirror. Slightly dishevelled from the morning’s busy shift, but not bad.

When she came out Tali was waiting for her by the door, smiling in a way that made her eyes even brighter. “Ready to go?”

They took their fish and chips down to the beach, ate them facing the sea. It was crowded still, picnicking families and screaming kids and old couples roasting in the sunshine, and they watched the tourists as they chewed. For all Shepard’s complaining, she didn’t mind the summer crowds. It gave life to the place, woke it up a little. She and Tali talked, a long, meandering conversation that lasted most of the afternoon, trading stories about their lives and how they had ended up in this little corner of the world. Tali had kicked her shoes off and curled her toes in the sand, basked in the sunlight like a cat. Shepard caught herself staring more than once.

As the day wore on the crowd started thinning out, the tourists gathering up their umbrellas and backpacks as they ran for trains and buses and overdue parking. Shepard looked out across the sea, impossibly blue today, breathed in a deep lungful of salt air. She took the gum out of her mouth, put it inside the empty can of Coke she had been drinking.

“So,” Shepard said. “Do you want to do this again sometime, or do I have to rack up more repair bills?”

Tali laughed quietly. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I had fun today, Shepard.” She looked up at her, lips parted and shining.

Shepard knew her cue. She leaned in, kissed her gently. Tali’s mouth was salt and sweet, impossibly soft. The seagulls hollered and wheeled overhead, a sharp countermelody to the roaring of the waves.

When they broke apart Shepard reached into her pocket for another stick of gum, offered one to Tali. They sat blowing bubbles in the sand as the last of the pink-cheeked tourists left, as ice cream wrappers blew in the wind, as the arcade trilled behind them. This, Shepard thought, felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> british seaside AU exchange for my wonderful pal moki_989 WHOM I MISS INCREDIBLY MUCH. WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE CLEETHORPES
> 
> [Fallow Waters - Dragon Age - Merrill/Isabela](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025390) (moki_989's half of our british seaside fic exchange)


End file.
